It was my introduction to culinary nationalism. A few weeks ago the Vladimir Putin loyalist I was keen to meet suggested Voronezh, an upscale Moscow restaurant overlooking the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour.

We sat in the second-floor dining room, where the decor is vintage chic. I watched the waiters roll out a menu of sea herring, shrimps, oysters and even bone marrow. “It’s all from Russia,” my host says proudly.